


Tumblr Prompts

by RubyIntyale



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Soapy Shower Handjobs, peeing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 15,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyIntyale/pseuds/RubyIntyale
Summary: Little ficlets I've written based on prompts from lovely tumblr folk. More will be added as and when.





	1. Contents

I've tried to treat these as writing exercises rather than full on projects, meaning they were mostly written in one evening with minimal editing. 

  1. Prompt One - Timmy reacts to the Annie Leibovitz photo of Armie, requested by thereusedtobeadarkness (and several other people :p)
  2. Prompt Two - Football (soccer for my American friends) AU with locker room shenanigans, requested by maraskolnikova.
  3. Prompt Three - Timmy wants to sound natural in The King, so he's practising his British accent whenever he can. Armie finds it to be quite agreeable. Requested by mjquintas.
  4. Prompt Four - Armie's reaction to the Beautiful Boy trailer, requested by thereusedtobeadarkness. 
  5. Prompt Five - Timmy in lingerie, my response to a general request for kinky fics.
  6. Prompt Six - Nobody asked for this, but I read about Timmy taking naps in his parka during a photoshoot and I just couldn't get the image out of my head.
  7. Prompt Seven - A birthday fic for stakemyentirelifeondreams :) Timmy has a nice surprise for Armie.
  8. Prompt Eight - Timmy helps Armie shave, requested by maraskolnikova.
  9. Prompt Nine - Another Timmy in lingerie fic, requested by anonymous. 
  10. Prompt Ten - Armie leaves hickeys all over Timmy's body, requested by anonymous.
  11. Prompt Eleven - Timmy goes to see Armie's play.
  12. Prompt Twelve - TIFF Date Night Challenge.
  13. Prompt Thirteen - Armie goes shopping before he leaves Toronto.
  14. Prompt Fourteen - Oliver can see into alternate dimensions. Elio isn't fussed.
  15. Prompt Fifteen - Armie comes to stay, but Timmy's heating isn't working - For the people who requested fluff :)
  16. Prompt Sixteen - Armie and Timmy reunite in Texas after a bit of a dry spell.
  17. Prompt Seventeen - Armie is reluctant to cut his son's hair.
  18. Prompt Eighteen - 3 times Timmy borrowed Armie's clothes.
  19. Prompt Nineteen - Timmy is a sleepy little muffin.
  20. Prompt Twenty - Timmy is at the Golden Globes without Armie. Armie waits for a phone call.
  21. Prompt Twenty One - First kiss
  22. Prompt Twenty Two - Timmy stays with Armie while filming Beautiful Boy (slight trigger warning for eating disorders).
  23. Prompt Twenty Three - Timmy's leather trousers
  24. Prompt Twenty Four - Inspired by the bathroom video. You know the one.



Enjoy :)


	2. Prompt One - The Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy reacts to [this](https://www.vogue.com/article/armie-hammer-interview-vogue-july-2018-issue/) picture/article.

He was in the makeup chair the first time he saw it, soft bristles of the powder brush tickling his face. His Armie, almost aggressive in his nonchalance, long limbs everywhere. He swallowed as he stared at his phone. He could practically feel the soft denim under his palms as he imagined sliding his hands up those thick, strong thighs. Up, up, up.

“Wow,” the makeup lady peered over his shoulder. “You've done well.”

Timmy blushed all the way to the tips of his newly exposed ears. “Aha, no, no. It's not like that.”

“Oh. OK.” She winked at him in the mirror.

“No, honestly. He's my friend.”

She squeezed his shoulder in a conspiratorial way. “Of course.”

Timmy's thumb was still resting on the picture. He hastily locked the screen.

 

The third time he was hit in the face with a rubber sword, he realised he might be a bit distracted. He fake smiled his way through dinner with his cast mates, aching to be alone in his room. He waited until he was under the covers before finally 'liking' the picture on Armie's Instagram. _Ten hours. Good, don't wanna seem too eager._

The night was sticky and humid, the open window adding more warm air to the room instead of cooling it down. He ran his hand from his throat to his stomach before sliding it under the waistband of his boxers.

His phone rang. It was Armie.

“Hello?”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Fine thanks, how're you?”

Armie laughed loudly. It warmed Timmy all the way to his toes.

“You like the picture then?”

Timmy wrapped his hand around his dick, tugged gently. More of a tease than anything. “Of course. The article was good, too.”

“Thank you,” Armie sounded genuinely pleased. For all his outward appearance, he could be really insecure at times. It made Timmy's stomach twist.

“How are you, anyway?”

Armie sighed. “Honestly? Fucking exhausted. Theatre is way more pressure than being in a movie.”

Timmy was fully hard now. Just listening to Armie's voice excited him. He smeared precome over the tip of his cock. “The pay off is worth it though.”

“So I'm told. You're coming, right?”

“Not yet. Only just started.”

Armie snorted. “To opening night, you little fucker.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I suppose,” he smiled into the phone. God, he'd missed this.

“Oh, you _suppose_. OK. Guess I'll hang up then, if I'm such a chore.”

“No! Wait!” Timmy didn't sound desperate. Not at all.

“Is my picture not enough for you?”

“Not if I can have your voice, too.”

“Greedy.”

“Can't get enough,” Timmy stroked himself faster.

“Gonna get you on my sofa again. Do you remember?”

Timmy bit his lip. “God, yeah.”

“How many times did you come that day?”

“Five,” Timmy sighed. “Fuck.”

“Yes, I image there will be a lot of that.”

Timmy whimpered as he came all over his hand, panting, gasping Armie's name.

“Does that feel better?”

Timmy yawned, wiped his hand on the sheet. “Miss you.”

“Go to sleep, Tim.”

He yawned again. “OK.”

“I'll send you the other pictures tomorrow.”

“Other pictures?”

But Armie had already hung up.

 


	3. Prompt Two - Pavlov's Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy won't shower after practice. Armie is intrigued.

“Dude, seriously. Take a shower.” Armie wrinkled his nose as he tried to waft away the miasma of deodorant currently surrounding Timmy.

“Nah, I'm good.”

“You've been running around the pitch for an hour. It's June. You are an actual health hazard right now.”

Timmy just laughed, stuffing his kit back into his locker without bothering to fold it.

Armie shook his head. “I'm so glad I don't have classes with you any more.”

“You miss me really,” he said it quietly, not quite meeting Armie's eye.

Armie felt the familiar tugging in the pit of his stomach. He'd been feeling it ever since Timmy had moved into the advanced classes, though he'd never admit that. They still saw each other and they still had soccer, but it wasn't the same. It was especially unfair of Timmy to become so fucking _pretty_ this year. He'd shot up five inches since September, his long limbs graceful now instead of lanky and awkward. The last traces of puppy fat had melted away, leaving sharp cheekbones and a wicked little smirk. Even more endearing was the fact that he seemed completely oblivious to all the attention he was getting. Girls would turn to watch him walk down the corridor, whispering and giggling to each other, and Timmy would act as if they weren't there, chatting away with his exaggerated hand gestures and dorky grin.

Sometimes, when he was alone in bed, Armie liked to hope that there was another reason. Timmy knew he was gay. They'd got really high one night over the summer and Armie had told him. Timmy had rattled off loads of questions, nodding thoughtfully at his answers. Armie had been waiting for more ever since.

 

Their next practice was after school.

“Hey, can you hang around for awhile?” Armie asked as the rest of the team made their way inside. “There's some stuff we really need to work on.”

Timmy looked at his watch, scratched the back of his neck. “I can stick around a bit longer.”

“Awesome. You really suck.”

Timmy gave him the finger.

 

They stripped off in the empty locker room, Timmy keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. Armie leant against his locker, towel low on his hips.

“How come you don't take showers any more?”

Timmy sighed. “Why do you care? It's not like it's affecting you.”

“You used to take them before.”

Timmy sighed, closed his locker. “I don't wanna get hard,” he mumbled, staring at his feet.

Armie felt his face get hot. “Right. And that would happen because?”

“I jack off a lot. In the shower. So now, when I get in...It's like a conditioned response or something.”

“Pavlov's dick?” Armie burst out laughing.

“You're such an asshole,” Timmy threw a towel at him, but he was laughing too.

“Oh man, thank you. You've just made my life.”

“It's not funny, OK? Don't tell anyone.”

“Oh Tim,” Armie wiped his eyes, “that's so fucking hot.”

Timmy's eyes flittered to Armie's towel. Feeling almost perversely brave, Armie unwound the knot and let it fall to the floor.

 

They backed up against the wall, multiple shower heads soaking them both. Timmy's feet slid on the tiled floor and Armie caught him around his waist, holding him close to stop him falling. Timmy placed his hands on Armie's chest, then quickly moved them to his shoulders, bit his bottom lip and frowned when that didn't feel right either. Armie gently rubbed his back.

“I've got you. It's OK.”

Timmy let out his breath in one big rush. “Sorry.”

Armie pushed Timmy's wet hair off his face. They shared a smile, affectionate, awkward, happy, before Armie closed the gap between them. Timmy responded with enthusiasm, not waiting for permission to slide his tongue into Armie's mouth. He wanted him as close as possible. His fingernails left marks down Armie's back.

Armie trailed kisses along his jaw. “Can I suck you off?” He bit the soft shell of Timmy's ear.

Timmy nodded.

Armie sank to his knees, smiling as he took Timmy into his mouth, enjoying the weight of him on his tongue. He closed his lips around his mouthful, sucked just enough to make Timmy gasp, and then poked his tongue into his slit. Timmy tasted like salt and sex and chlorine from the shower. He could already feel the scratch in his throat.

Timmy played with the hair at Armie's nape as he rocked his hips. He closed his eyes, lost to the hot wet mouth on his dick and the hot wet spray that surrounded them. His thighs trembled under Armie's hands.

Armie had never enjoyed giving someone a blowjob this much. Timmy was so _responsive_ , and he made such cute little noises. Fucking him would be like conducting an orchestra. His soft whimpers turned to high pitched whines as he got closer and closer. Armie squeezed his ass, encouraging him to fuck his mouth.

Timmy cried out as he came, holding Armie in place by his hair. It stung a bit, but Armie took it, squeezing his own cock as he felt Timmy's release hit the back of his throat. He swallowed everything. Timmy slumped against the wall.

Armie rose to his feet, his knees complaining. He was still achingly hard, but he wasn't sure how far he could take this. Timmy already looked done for the night, smiling sleepily and holding his arms out for a hug. Armie fell into his embrace, cringing when his dick bumped Timmy's hip bone. Timmy looked down at Armie's crotch, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He felt along the wall until his hand closed around a bottle of shower gel. Not his own, carelessly left behind.

“You don't have to,” Armie protested, but Timmy was already pouring it into his hand. He stroked the soap onto Armie's cock, their eyes never leaving each other as he worked up a nice lather.

Armie held himself at arm's length, palm resting on the wall above Timmy's head. He came moments later, semen and suds swirling down the drain.

 

“You still suck in midfield.”

“Yeah. I know.”

 


	4. Prompt Three - British Accent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy needs to practice his British accent for The King. Armie doesn't mind, really.

Who the fuck is this British guy answering Timmy's phone? Armie tries to bite back his annoyance.

“Yeah, hi. Can I speak to Tim, please?”

Familiar giggling on the other end. “Armie? It's me.”

Armie doesn't get it. He's at the end of a _very_ long day and there are already two whiskeys warming in his belly.

“My dialect coach thinks it will help if I speak like this all the time. I want it to sound natural.”

“Right,” Armie is still not entirely sure that it's Timmy. The accent makes him sound younger, more vulnerable.

“Oh, shit, hang on.”

Clattering sounds in the background. Mumbled apologies to things he's knocked over. _Now_ he's convinced it's Tim.

“Sorry about that. I had to hide. I'm not, ahem, I'm not supposed to have my mobile with me on set.”

“Your 'mobile?'” Armie imitates, smiling into the phone.

“Piss off,” Timmy laughs, “your accent is rubbish.”

“Did they have a lot of 'mobiles' back then?”

“Armie!” Timmy sounds exasperated, but all Armie can focus on is the way his name sounds with _that_ accent. The 'a' is higher and more pronounced, like an angel singing instead of a piratey growl.

“It suits you,” he says quietly. He can hear Timmy's breathing change. “Are you alone right now?”

“No,” Timmy admits, “but I can be. I'll ring you back in a sec.”

The line goes dead. Armie pops the button on his jeans and pulls the zip down. He doesn't want Timmy to think he called just for this, but he's already half-hard and he can't help himself. He cups his dick lazily through his underwear, no heat in it yet, his phone dangling in his free hand. It rings a few minutes later.

“Hello again.”

“Hi,” he can _hear_ Timmy's grin.

“Found somewhere more private?”

“Sort of,” Timmy replies, 't' perfectly enunciated, “I'm in the loo.”

“Sexy,” Armie pulls himself out through the slit in his underwear, plays with himself teasingly.

“There aren't many places to have phone sex in a castle. I think this is the visitors' centre. I definitely remember passing a gift shop.”

Armie makes a circle with his fingers and pushes his dick through it. “Fedex me a snow globe.”

“Your fetishes are getting weirder.”

“Too much time away from you.” Armie squeezes his length up to the head. Precome beads in his slit. He really means it.

“How's it looking,” Timmy's voice is lower, obviously aroused, still British.

“Mmm,” Armie runs a fingertip over the head, making his cock jump. “Fat. Swollen. Aching for you.”

A sharp intake of breath. “What do you need?”

“Just say words,” Armie leans back into the sofa cushions, pulling his t shirt up to his stomach. His hand works faster. “The accent is hot.”

“I'm so hard. I wish I was there to taste you.”

Armie moans, spreading his legs and digging his ass into the seat for better leverage.

“I'd lick you everywhere,” Timmy continues, his breathing getting laboured, “your thighs, your nipples. Your cock. I'd let you fuck my mouth and pull my hair, what's left of it. I know how much you like that.”

Armie tugs himself roughly, gasping into the phone.

“I'd let you put your thick cock up my tight little arse.”

A loud bang like a door slamming. His phone beeps to tell him Timmy ended the call. Armie stares at his contact list in disbelief, dick throbbing in his hand.

“Rude,” he tosses his phone onto the cushion next to him and gets back to work. It doesn't take long for him to come, Timmy's name melting on his lips. He snaps a picture of his still hard dick laying in a puddle of come on his stomach. Sends it to Timmy with the caption, _look what you missed._

Timmy's reply comes minutes later. “Bugger.”

 


	5. Prompt Four - Beautiful Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie's reaction to the Beautiful Boy trailer. This is a bit angsty, sorry.

He stares at his phone until the screen times out, sitting on the fire escape behind the theatre, cigarette dangling, forgotten, between his fingers. The sun-warmed metal stairs burn his legs, but he sits there, frozen in place.

_I love you more than everything._

He knew it would be difficult, watching this. He didn't know what to expect. Timmy looks ill. Wired, strung out. Armie's eyes sting and he blinks a few times to clear them. The image of Timmy laying crumpled and broken on the bathroom floor burns into his brain. His stomach twists painfully. The casting is excellent. The younger versions of Tim are so similar to _his_ Tim that it hurts to look at them. He's watched Timmy grow, in the brief time they've known each other, but watching this he feels like he's known him since childhood. Like he's literally seen him grow up from a little boy into a man.

_Get a grip, for God's sake! It's a two minute fucking trailer._

The urge overwhelms him and his fingers start to dial of their own accord. He lets his cigarette fall to the ground.

“Hello?” She answers on the third ring.

“Liz? It's me. Can you,” his throat is dry. He swallows thickly. “Can I talk to the kids?”

“They're taking a nap right now. Is everything alright?”

Armie clears his throat, aims for cheerful. “Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I just miss them.”

“They're cuddled up next to each other in your bed. It's very cute. Do you want me to send a picture?” Her voice is kind. He's grateful for that.

He nods and then realises she can't see him. “Yes. Please, if you can.”

“OK.” She hangs up.

The picture comes through a few minutes later. They do look very cute, chubby arms wrapped round each other, their cheeks pink with sleep. He smiles. Breathing is a little easier, now.

He Facetimes Timmy. Fuck Greenwich Mean Time, he needs to _see_ him. To see that he's healthy and happy and that none of it was real.

Timmy squints at him through the screen. “Armie? What's wrong?” He's in bed, naked as far as Armie can tell. His eyes are barely open, too tired to cope with the brightness of his phone.

“Hey,” Armie says, “sorry I woke you. I just had to see your face.”

Timmy smiles sleepily. “What did you think?”

Armie takes a shaky breath. The picture blurs as Timmy shuffles around. When he comes back into focus, he looks more awake, covers pushed to one side.

“Well?” He presses, when Armie doesn't answer.

“Have you got your suit for the Oscars yet?”

Timmy laughs nervously and looks away. “You're just saying that.”

“When do I ever 'just say' things?”

Timmy shrugs.

“It was heartbreaking, Tim.”

Timmy pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying at it with his teeth.

“You're incredible.”

“How's the play?” Timmy asks. His face does that little scrunchy thing it does when someone compliments him.

“Good. Tiring. Challenging. But good.”

“Wish I could come and see it.”

“The whole thing will be on Youtube soon enough.”

Timmy rolls his eyes. He shifts on the bed again. “Hey,” he smirks, “do you wanna watch _me_ play?” He moves his phone so that the camera pans across his body. His hand moves underneath his boxers.

“Tim, stop.” It comes out harsher than he had intended.

Timmy moves the phone back up to his face. “I miss you,” he pouts, “I like listening to your sexy voice.”

“Fuck, that's not,” Armie takes a deep breath. “It's not about that.”

“It's the middle of the night, Armie.” Timmy just looks confused.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I'm OK,” Timmy says softly. “I'm fine.”

Armie nods in agreement. They share a silence.

“Tell me about New York,” Timmy moves onto his side, pulling the covers around himself. He rests his phone on the pillow.

Armie wants to nuzzle behind his ear. To feel soft fuzz where messy curls used to be. “I tried a Cronut.”

“You did?” Timmy grins so wide it makes the pillow dimple.

“Fucking amazing. I had _two._ Put me in a sugar coma for like, an hour.”

“I'm so glad.”

They watch each other for awhile. It's comfortable, and comforting.

“I should be getting back,” Armie says reluctantly.

“Nooo!” Timmy protests, but it's cut off by a large yawn.

“Yeah,” Armie laughs, “I'm going. Sleep well, baby boy.”

Timmy gives him a little wave before ending the call.

He stares at his phone until the screen times out.

 


	6. Prompt Five - Those Things You Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy has a secret. A lacy secret.

“Are you going commando?!” Armie gives Timmy's butt a little squeeze. He can't feel the usual bulk of boxers underneath his sweatpants.

“No!” Timmy tries to wriggle away from underneath him, their 'sparring' session leaving them sprawled across Armie's bed.

“You so are,” Armie grabs his waistband as if to pants him (in a _friendly_ way, obviously). That's weird. He can definitely feel a seam now, a smooth line across Timmy's sharp hipbone. He feels round the back again. Yeah, there's the line, and then nothing. The sensation is familiar. Realisation makes his stomach lurch.

“You're not,” he coughs, doesn't continue.

Timmy blushes furiously. He shoves Armie off him and rolls onto his side, face buried in the mattress. Armie pulls his sweatpants away from his body, has a quick look. Fuck.

“Look,” Timmy sits up suddenly, hands balled into fists at his side. “I just like it sometimes, OK? And you can hardly fucking talk. I've seen all that rope shit you're into.”

Armie blinks, still trying to process what he saw. It's hard to think when all your blood's rushing elsewhere.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“I wanna see. Properly.”

Timmy eyes him suspiciously. “No. You're making fun of me.”

Armie sighs. He spreads his legs to show Timmy how serious he is.

“Show me. Please.”

Timmy is still studying his face, frowning. He gulps.

Armie rolls his eyes. “Fine. Will this help?” He leans forward and kisses him on the mouth. No tongue, his lips barely parted.

Timmy sits rigid for a few seconds before grabbing his neck and pulling him back, his kisses needy and a little desperate. Armie raises an eyebrow in question. Timmy looks away and nods, his bottom lip between his teeth. He stands awkwardly, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. He doesn't make a show of undressing. It's like ripping off a bandage, quick and painful.

The thong rides high on his hip, dark green lace against soft, creamy skin. It clearly wasn't designed to accommodate someone of Timmy's _stature._ The tip of his cock pokes out of the waistband, fully hard despite his embarrassment. The lace holds it close against his body. Armie swallows, suddenly salivating. _No hair anywhere._

He moves to the end of the bed, beckoning Timmy closer. Tim steps into the circle of his arms, drawing in shaky breaths as Armie's thumbs stroke the lace either side of his cock.

“Gorgeous,” Armie kisses where his thigh meets his groin. He runs his finger down the little strip of lace between Timmy's cheeks, presses it against his entrance. “How does it feel?”

“Erotic,” Timmy licks his dry lips. “Sensual,” he laughs nervously, “kinda dirty? Touching me _there_.”

Armie sucks the head of his cock through his underwear, just for a second, before pulling Timmy back onto the bed. He hovers over him on all fours, drinking in the deliciousness of his messy hair and rucked up t shirt, and everything else. All that perfect skin. His cock is heavy between his legs, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. His shorts are a mess. He's never been more turned on in his life.

He brings two of his fingers to Timmy's mouth and he sucks them eagerly. His eyes close as he hums around his mouthful, unconsciously rocking his hips. Armie pulls them out when they're good and wet. He moves the thong to one side so that he can rub his slick fingers against Timmy's hole.

“Is this OK?” He pushes just the tip of one finger inside.

Timmy nods, his eyes still closed. He grabs his dick when Armie enters him further, his face screwed up in pain. Armie works his finger in and out a few times before he adds the second. Timmy whines and arches up off the bed, nearly knocking Armie off balance.

“Hey, hey, relax, OK?” Armie soothes him, stroking his internal walls with careful fingers. “Open your eyes, look at me.”

Slowly, Timmy looks up at him. His eyes are wet with tears, his cheeks flushed. Armie has to ask.

“You planned this, right?”

Timmy shakes his head no, won't make eye contact.

“But you wanted it to happen?”

More tears. Armie pulls his fingers out, making Timmy whimper at the loss.

“Oh, sweetheart. Did you...Did you dress up _for me_?”

Timmy pulls him down into a hug, burying his face in Armie's shoulder. “I just wanted to feel good,” he mumbles into Armie's skin. “I'm so insecure around you.”

Armie settles on top of him, moves Timmy's head so he can kiss him. “Can we keep going?” he asks, brushing Timmy's hair off his face. He thinks he might implode if Timmy says no.

“Yes,” Timmy takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I need this.”

Armie sits up on his heels. He pushes his shorts and underwear down just enough to free his cock and spits into his hand. It'll have to do. He moves the thong aside again, the elastic straining as he hooks Timmy's legs up over his hips. He enters him steadily, Timmy hissing and groaning with every inch. His hand is still tight around his cock, rubbing and tugging so he doesn't go soft.

“Hurts.”

“It'll feel good soon, I promise.”

A choked sob. “You're so big.”

Armie glows with the compliment. He can't help it. “Do you like that?”

“Fuck!”

Timmy works his cock against his stomach, precome and wet lace and so much friction. He is absolutely breathtaking. It's happening before Armie can stop it and he falls forward, his whole body twitching, his come filling Timmy's perfect, tight ass.

After a few minutes, Timmy half-heartedly shoves at Armie with an indignant mewl.

“Sorry, sorry,” Armie pulls out and shuffles down the bed.

Timmy sighs with relief when he hits the back of Armie's throat, his pretty underwear unceremoniously bunched around his left thigh. Armie uses just the right amount of pressure and flicks of his tongue to make Timmy come, shouting, his hands in Armie's hair. Armie swallows it all and rolls over onto his back.

“I like these,” he pulls the thong down Timmy's leg.

Timmy throws his arm over his eyes, still coming down. “Dry clean only.”

“Ah,” Armie's smile is apologetic. “I'll buy you some more.”

“No need.”

“Oh?”

 


	7. Prompt Six - Curled Up In His Parka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and fluffy :)

Pins and needles tingled in his feet. Armie gently, gently moved his leg out from under Timmy's head, attempting a subtle stretch. Timmy frowned and snuggled in closer. Sighing, Armie returned to his original position.

His manager walked past on his way back from the bar, raised an eyebrow at Timmy's sleeping form.

“He's all tuckered out,” Armie whispered with a shrug.

The airport was nearly deserted due to the blizzard. They were only sticking around on the off chance someone might be dumb enough to fly in this weather, but as the hours ticked by it was looking less and less likely.

The hood of Timmy's parka was pulled up, making him look even more soft and cosy. He lay on his side, his face nuzzling Armie's stomach and his long legs stretched out across three plastic seats. He wriggled a little and Armie held him closer, rubbing his back through the thick padding of his coat. Timmy settled immediately, angelic face the picture of relaxed contentment. Armie tucked a stray curl back inside Timmy's hood, stroked his cheek with his thumb. He couldn't blame him for being tired. Not after last night.

Usually Timmy vibrated with restless energy. It was a rarity to see him still, but now? The dark smudges beneath his eyes, the incessant yawning, the little hitch in his step? This sleepy heap was definitely Armie's handiwork. They'd been up all night, but when Timmy had climbed onto him in the early hours, hard and ready to go _again,_ Armie wasn't exactly thinking about the potential leg cramp.

Snowflakes covered the windows, obscuring everything in swirling, ferocious white. Timmy smiled in his sleep.

 


	8. Prompt Seven - Ribbons

He answered on the third ring.

“Tim? I thought we said FaceTime. Did you open the wrong app again?”

“Hey!” He could hear Timmy smiling into the phone. “That was one time!”

Armie chuckled as he unlocked the door to his hotel room. “So why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to check if you were alone.”

“Oh?”

“Well?” Timmy sounded impatient. “Are you?”

“Yes, I'm back at the hotel.”

“OK,” Timmy hung up.

Armie stared at his phone, slightly perplexed. Several minutes passed and he was just starting to wonder what the hell was going on when FaceTime announced a new call.

“The fuck was that?”

Timmy lay on his bed, shirtless and grinning, his head propped up on one arm. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Armie sat down on the sofa, settling back into the cushions and holding the phone at a more comfortable angle.

“I've got a surprise for you.” Timmy's tongue swiped over his bottom lip.

Armie felt his dick twitch. “Have you?”

“Yup.”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

Timmy shook his head. Armie pouted.

“I can show you, though.”

He panned the camera down to show Armie the length of his body. He was wearing the prettiest pair of grey satin panties Armie had ever seen. The leg holes and waistband were slightly ruffled, and they fastened at the sides with black velvet ribbons, a sharp contrast to the creamy softness of Timmy's hips and thighs.

Armie let out a low whistle. His dick throbbed as it filled out, pressing against his fly.

“Do you like?” Timmy sounded nervous.

“Fucking incredible,” Armie couldn't tear his eyes away.

Timmy played with the ribbons, smoothing them through his fingers. “Do you want to see the back?”

Armie just moaned. Timmy shuffled up onto his knees and circled the camera around himself. The panties made his sweet little ass look even more edible. There wasn't quite enough material to cover him properly, so the crotch was wedged between his cheeks. There was a little keyhole opening at the top of the waistband. Armie imagined sliding his finger through it to tease at Timmy's crack.

“Are you OK?” Timmy's voice made him jump. “You've gone really quiet.”

“Sorry,” Armie cleared his throat, “I'm just imagining you all spread out on our bed. I'd unlace those ribbons with my teeth.”

“Oh fuck,” Timmy lay back down again, giving Armie a gorgeous view from his mouth down to his cock. He was hard already, stretching the satin taut.

Armie palmed himself through his shorts. “Do you want me to eat your ass, baby boy? Is that why you dressed up so nicely?”

“Uh huh,” Timmy gave himself a squeeze. Precome soaked through his underwear, a dark stain already blooming.

“Don't you dare ruin those,” Armie scolded, “You're gonna be wearing them next time I see you.”

“Sorry,” Timmy immediately stopped touching himself.

“Good boy. You can take them off now. I wanna look at all of you.”

 


	9. Prompt Eight - With the Grain

Timmy sat on the bathroom counter, swinging his legs back and forth as he drank in the sight before him; Armie, naked apart from snug teal boxers, hair a fluffy mess, turning his jaw this way and that as he shaved away two day's worth of stubble. Slowly, Timmy ran his right foot up the length of Armie's calf, up his thigh, until his toes grazed the soft cotton just below his ass.

Armie stopped mid shave, gave him a quizzical smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Timmy shrugged. “Come here.”

Armie stepped sideways to stand between Timmy's legs. Timmy placed his palm on Armie's stomach, enjoying the tight feel of his muscles, the soft smattering of golden hairs. His thumb stroked the 'v' of Armie's hipbone.

“Am I dreaming?”

“Why don't you pinch yourself?”

Looking Armie straight in the eye, Timmy took his nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched. Hard.

“Ouch.” His expression never changed.

Armie laughed, shaking his head. He stroked up Timmy's slim thigh with his free hand.

Timmy eyed the razor. “Can I help?”

“Sure.”

Armie stood closer so that Timmy could reach. Tim wet the razor in the sink and shook off the excess water. He carefully shaved a thick stripe from Armie's neck up to his cheek, his tongue out slightly to help him concentrate. Armie was so close Timmy could feel the heat coming from him. Their crotches almost touched every time he changed position, surrounded by the scent of Armie's warm skin.

Armie glanced down. “Someone's enjoying this.”

Timmy's erection tented out the front of his loose white boxers. “We haven't done it for three days,” he replied, still focused on his task.

“Yeah, but you've still been playing with yourself.”

He could hear the smirk in Armie's voice. He sat back, his shoulders touching the wall behind him, pouting at the accusation. “No I haven't.”

Armie laughed. “Oh Tim, baby, you are _not_ subtle. The other night when I got home? You yanked your hand out of your sweats so fast I could see that thing _bounce._ ”

Timmy blushed. “Yeah, well,” he rinsed the razor off again, “I have a healthy libido.”

“No, _I_ have a healthy libido. You're like the fucking Energizer bunny.”

“Do you want me to cut your face to shreds?” Timmy tried to sound stern despite his amusement, “Because that's what will happen if you carry on.”

Armie parted the slit in Timmy's boxers with one finger. Tim's dick popped out of the opening, standing straight up in his lap. Armie teased the head with the flat of his palm, moving his hand in small circles over and over until Timmy gasped and the razor hit the sink with a clang. Armie took hold of him properly, twisting his hand just the way Timmy liked it.

“You're so helpful. What can I do for my baby boy, hmmm? Would you like a blowjob?”

Timmy kissed him hungrily, swiping away little smears of shaving cream as he pulled his face closer. “Fuck me,” he murmured against Armie's lips. “Please, Armie. I need it.”

Armie made to pull him off the counter, but Timmy stayed put. “No. Here. Fuck me right here.”

Armie yanked his boxers off with one hand, kicked them towards the shower.

Timmy's followed seconds later. He shuffled down until his ass was on the edge of the counter and spread his legs, holding them up and out, his hands behind his knees.

“Yeah, that's it,” Armie coated his fingers with shaving cream, “show me.”

Timmy moaned as slick fingers pushed inside him. He was grateful that Armie used expensive lotions and not that horrible, chemically foam. Two fingers were quickly replaced by three. Timmy keened, swung his arm out for more balance and knocked several items to the floor.

“Shit! Sorry.”

“Doesn't matter,” Armie was already lubing up his cock. He entered Timmy in a rush, barely giving him time to accommodate his plump head before the shaft was sliding inside, stretching him to his limits, making his eyes water.

They kissed again, Armie bracing his hand against the wall for leverage as he fucked Timmy nice and deep, the bathroom unit groaning under their combined weight.

Timmy got very close very fast. He worked his dick in time with Armie's thrusts, his head thrown back, eyes closed as he lost himself in sensation. Armie pulled his leg up to his chest and held it there, fucking into him with increasing speed. The change in angle made Timmy's head spin. He came hard, shouting out a mixture of expletives and the various syllables in Armie's name.

Armie sank forward, Timmy's twitching muscles tipping him over the edge. Timmy used his heels to pull Armie even closer, so happy to be full, always willing to take whatever Armie gave him.

They smiled at each other, panting as they came down. Jars and bottles littered the floor, some of them leaking. The sink was full of water and beard stubble. Timmy's come streaked the mirror behind them.

 


	10. Prompt Nine - Black, Please

It was awkward pretending to suck someone's dick. It was even more awkward when you'd sucked the same dick that morning and had to keep quiet about it, but Armie Hammer was the consummate professional. He knelt in front of Tim, sucking his thumb to make wet slurping sounds, his legs aching from the hardwood floors. Tim's erection brushed his chin and he moved his shoulders to shield him from the camera's voyeuristic glare. He risked a glance upward. Tim was making the exact same face he made when Armie really did go down on him. Eyebrows scrunched, eyes closed, quirk of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Armie nuzzled his soft belly, accidentally pulling his waistband down as his hands gathered him closer.

At first he thought he'd imagined it. He blinked, trying to clear the cloud of lust from his head. Carefully, carefully he pulled Tim's shorts away from his body, only allowing himself the tiniest of glances into the dark warmth within.

A strip of black lace rode low across Timmy's hipbones, far, far lower than normal underwear would sit. Blood rushed in Armie's ears. His throat went dry. He was in danger of toppling over when Luca shouted 'cut.'

Tim slipped his t shirt on as Armie stood up. They were both hard. Armie stared at him, jaw clenching. Tim raised his eyebrows in question, the innocent gesture decimating Armie's self control.

“I need to talk to Tim for a sec,” he grabbed his bicep, steering him towards the door. Tim tried to shrug out of his grip, but Armie held him tighter, his fingernails leaving marks.

If Luca protested, Armie didn't hear him. He manhandled Timmy across the landing and into the Pearlmans' bedroom, shoving him up against the door as soon as it closed. He pressed his erection into Timmy's hip, attacking his mouth with desperate, hungry kisses.

“You fucking gorgeous little cocktease,” his mouth latched on to Timmy's collarbone, sucking his blood to the surface in an angry bruise. He soothed it with a swipe of his tongue.

“Armie!” Timmy whimpered.

Armie grabbed handfuls of his ass, kneading his cheeks and pulling them apart, “I can't believe you did this to me.”

“Did what?” Timmy managed to gasp.

“Fuck, yeah. Play innocent. I love that.”

Armie pulled his swim shorts down. Timmy stepped out of them, one leg getting caught on his sneaker. He shook his foot to free it. Armie growled. He rucked up Timmy's t-shirt and held it in a tight fist.

The black lace belonged to a tiny pair of shorts, so thin and delicate that they just covered what they needed to. Tim's cock stood proudly to one side, barely supported by the stretchy material. He looked like he'd been gift wrapped; perfect, creamy skin encased in intricate floral.

Timmy blushed, laughing nervously as he looked away. “Shit.”

Armie hastily unzipped himself, letting his shorts pool round his ankles. A steady stream of precome leaked from his slit, leaving gossamer threads from his dick to his stomach. He lifted Timmy off his feet, used his weight to hold him up against the door. Timmy wrapped his legs around Armie's waist. The underwear bunched up behind his balls, uncomfortable, arousing.

Their lips met and parted, Armie's tongue fucking Timmy's mouth the same way he intended to fuck his ass. He pulled away, leaving Timmy a panting mess. He spat in his palm and slicked himself up one handed, his other arm around Timmy's waist. He tugged at the panties, but they wouldn't budge. Frowning in annoyance, Armie tried to work them down Timmy's thighs. Timmy wriggled, eager to help, but it wasn't happening.

“Let me down,” Timmy pushed on his shoulder, “I'll take them off.”

“No.”

Armie hooked his fingers into the seam at the back and pulled. Hard. The delicate lace gave way easily, ripping into two separate halves.

“Armie!” Timmy stared, wide eyed. “That was _French lace!_ Do you have any idea how much they cost?!”

Grunting, Armie pushed his dick inside him, closing his eyes as he was lost to tight, wet heat. Timmy keened, breathing deeply through his nose, forcing his body to relax against the intrusion. Armie didn't give him time to adjust. He fucked him hard against the door, his back thwacking the wood with every thrust. Armie could tell he was wound tight, skirting the sharp edge of pleasure and pain. His erection never wavered, trapped between their bodies, still bound by the lace that Armie hadn't shredded.

There was another door at the end of the room. Anyone could walk in on them. A crew member perhaps, or even Luca himself. They would walk in and see Timmy, bare from the waist down, t-shirt round his nipples, Converse and ankle socks, taking Armie's fat dick and loving every second of it. They'd see a scrap of black lace clinging to his wet, swollen cock while Armie's face contorted in pleasure.

Timmy came, wet slick soaking through the lace, smearing on his thighs. Armie followed seconds later, a stream of filthy praise leaving his mouth as his cock slowly softened. He lowered Timmy to the ground. Timmy stood on rubbery legs. He pulled the wet panties away from his body, cringing at the cling.

“Sorry about that,” Armie rubbed the back of his neck. “I can't, er. I can't really handle teasing.”

“Teasing?”

“Yeah. Wearing _that_ on set. Showing off when you know I can't touch you.”

Timmy laughed then, hearty and open mouthed. “Can I confess something?” He asked, still managing to look embarrassed even after everything they'd done.

Armie smiled. Nodded his head.

“I forgot I had them on.”

“What?”

“They're what I usually wear,” he turned round to pull his shorts up, smiling at Armie over his shoulder. “Black please, to replace the ones you ruined. I'll send you a link to the website.”

 


	11. Prompt Ten - Hickeys

Sleep didn’t happen. Timmy lay on top of the covers scrolling through his phone. He had the bedside lamp angled down so that the light wouldn’t show under the door. It was late, well after 1am. The whole house was quiet, so the soft knock startled him.   
  
Armie entered without waiting for his response, carefully closing the door behind him. He was wearing the royal blue boxers that Timmy loved, the ones that hugged him in the front and showed off how toned his legs were. Just the boxers and nothing else. Timmy’s mouth was dry. He pulled his knees up to his chest.   
  
Armie sat down on the bed, close enough for Tim to feel his body heat.    
  
“I really am sorry,” he whispered, “I know this was supposed to be our weekend. I’m as disappointed as you are.”   
  
Timmy rolled his eyes.    
  
“I’m serious,” Armie placed his hand on Tim’s knee, his large palm covering it completely. “I wanted all of it, Tim. Everything we talked about. I wanted you to ride me on the couch while I kissed you breathless. I wanted to put you to bed when you got too sleepy to finish the movie. I wanted to wake up to you making breakfast, and I wanted to fuck you against the counter, still wet from the night before.”   
  
“Armie!” Tim shuddered. Armie’s words were making his dick fill up so fast he had to close his eyes.    
  
Armie gently pushed on his knee, encouraging him to rest his leg flat across his thighs. His erection was obvious through the stretchy cotton of his grey boxers. Armie gave him a gentle squeeze. Timmy’s dick throbbed. He pulled his leg back, shuffled up the mattress away from Armie’s grasp.   
  
“What’re you doing?” He hissed, “She’s right next door.”    
  
“Relax. We can still play a little.”   
  
Timmy stared at him, wide eyed and incredulous. Armie climbed onto the bed, hovering over him on all fours. Their lips were millimetres apart.   
  
“Just let me, please?” Armie brushed their noses together, “I’ve missed you so much.”   
  
Timmy deepened the kiss, clinging to Armie like a life raft in stormy seas. “I’m dying without you,” he whispered, his breath hot in the space between them.   
  
Armie pulled away and he was scared he’d said too much, gone too ‘Elio’ and embarrassed himself, but Armie only held his gaze, lowered his hips. His cock nudged Timmy’s balls and rubbed up his shaft, their underwear creating gorgeous friction.    
  
Armie rolled his shoulders, “I wanna fuck you, but you’re too loud.”   
  
Timmy giggled, realised his mistake and shoved his hand over his mouth.   
  
“See?”   
  
Timmy nodded. Armie latched his mouth onto his collarbone and sucked hard. His little fangs scraped at Timmy’s sensitive skin, bringing blood to the surface. He let go, smiling down at his handiwork.    
  
“Fuck,” Timmy pushed his hips up, “I could come just from that.”   
  
Armie’s smile turned wicked, “Shall we test that theory?”   
  
“Hnngh!” Timmy tried to be quiet as Armie sucked a little lower, biting just above his nipple.    
  
“Mine?”   
  
“…Yours.”   
  
The front of Timmy’s boxers was damp with precome already. Armie rubbed him with his thumb, over and over while he left a trail of bite marks down his narrow chest.    
  
Timmy squirmed on the bed. “Not my neck,” he managed to breathe out, “nowhere she’ll see.”   
  
Armie pouted, but acquiesced with a nod. He shimmied down, laying flat on his stomach between Timmy’s spread legs. He pulled Timmy’s boxers down to his thighs.   
  
Timmy sighed as his overheated flesh made contact with the cool night air. There was something extremely erotic about being exposed without undressing completely. He felt like a naughty teenager, fooling around in his bedroom but scared he would be caught at any moment.    
  
Armie sucked hard at the crease of his thigh, swiping his tongue into the 'v’ of Timmy’s groin. Timmy stroked his hair, his fingers moving easily through the silky strands. He looked down at his body, at the blooms of red and purple dotting his pale skin. He wanted to come in Armie’s mouth. His grip tightened in Armie’s hair as he tried to pull him closer to his dick.    
  
“Ah, ah. No,” Armie smiled as he licked the bruise, “You said you wanted to come just from this.” He lowered his mouth back to Timmy’s leg.   
  
Timmy sighed in frustration. He took himself in hand and gave a few quick, firm tugs. Armie noticed straight away. He held Timmy down by his wrists, arms framing his narrow hips.   
  
“I’ll tie you up if I have to.”   
  
Timmy closed his eyes on a shuddery breath. “Please.”   
  
Armie tongued the head of his dick, sucked gently on his plump glans, and pulled off just as Timmy was starting to enjoy it.   
  
“Wha?” Timmy rocked his hips, eager for more.    
  
“Roll over, baby.”   
  
Timmy did as he was told. His cock was trapped beneath him, the underwear around his thighs essentially holding him open, exposed. Armie’s hard on nestled between his cheeks as he draped himself across Timmy’s back. He started at the base of his neck, little kisses that turned into nips all the way down. Timmy tried desperately to be quiet. He buried his face in the pillow while his body overreacted to every swipe of tongue, every graze of teeth. Armie’s stubbly chin prickled his back as his mouth branded Timmy again and again.   
  
Armie parted his cheeks and flicked his tongue across his hole, just a tease, no intention of taking it further. Timmy felt hot all over, so close he was nearly in tears. He was getting light headed from having his face stuffed into the pillow for so long. Armie bit into his ass cheek and he came, groaning low in his throat, his dick twitching as he soaked the sheets.   
  
He rolled onto his side, bringing Armie with him and hugging him close. Armie stroked his back while he came down, kissing his forehead, the tip of his nose.   
  
“See,” he said quietly, “we still got time to ourselves.”   
  
Timmy nuzzled his chest. “I want you inside me.” He cupped Armie’s cock through his boxers.    
  
Armie moved his hand away, lovingly stroking the inside of Timmy’s wrist. “Not tonight.”   
  


  
Timmy didn’t remember Armie leaving, but he woke up alone to the sound of expensive china hitting laminate floor. His bedroom door was open. He could hear shouting.   
  
“…Well he didn’t have them before!”   
  
He’d kicked the covers off in the night. His pale, naked body sprawled across the bed, adorned with Armie’s bite marks. He pressed his finger into the bruise near his groin. Orange juice seeped into the faux fur rug. They’d probably ask him to leave soon.


	12. Prompt Eleven - No One Cares What Your Hair Looks Like

“Your place?” Whispered quickly, his fingers squeezing Timmy's shoulder, lingering just a fraction too long, but no one can tell from this angle. A nod, covered up with a soft headbutt, and then he'd being whisked away.

Armie rushes through a bout of autographs, elated, but impatient. A pretty girl in a coral dress looks at his barely decipherable scrawl with a sad smile. He sighs and gestures for her to pass it back.

“Sorry,” he writes his name again, “I'm a little distracted.” He inclines his head in the direction Timmy has just left. Her eyes light up and she beams at him. He adds extra kisses to her playbill. Wishing everyone a good night he goes back in through the stage door, straight out of the other side and into a waiting cab.

 

Timmy is still wearing the Budapest hat when he opens the door twenty minutes later. The hat and very little else. Does jewellery count as clothing? Armie doesn't care. The thumb ring is a welcome addition. It digs in pleasantly when Timmy pulls him close. He goes for a kiss, but the brim of the hat pokes him in the face.

“Take that damn thing off. No one cares what your hair looks like.”

Timmy tries to frown, ends up giggling instead. “ _I_ care!”

Armie takes it off for him and throws it in the direction of the couch. Timmy ruffles his remaining curls with his fingers, his cheeks pink with embarrassment, which is cute given that he's completely naked.

Armie can't tear his eyes away. Tim looks older, somehow. More masculine. There's a little more definition to his arms, a little more meat around his hips. Armie has to swallow, his mouth suddenly full of saliva.

He pulls Tim in for the kiss he wanted all along, slow, hot, delicious. His hand is on Timmy's dick and he doesn't remember putting it there. Timmy moans into his mouth.

“I was so hard watching you up there,” he pulls away to nuzzle Armie's throat, “you're _so_ good.”

Armie just smiles, running his hands up and down Timmy's back.

Timmy moves his hand away, laces Armie's fingers with his own instead. “I made the bed for you.”

 

Timmy undresses him with barely restrained enthusiasm while Armie lays back, surrounded by the smell of clean, fresh sheets. Job done, Timmy hovers over him on all fours, dips his hips and Armie groans at the friction. Tim is leaking all over him, his arm muscles flexing with the effort of holding himself up. Armie wraps his hand around his bicep. His fingers still meet, but it's more of a challenge. Tim puts up a bit of a fight when he flips them over. Armie likes that.

They make out while Armie prepares him, slippery fingers clumsy with need. Tim pulls his leg up to his chest to make it easier, their mouths never parting. When Armie does pull away, Tim follows him and takes his dick in his mouth, eyes closed, hand wrapped round the base. Armie strokes his hair as he watches him.

When he finally gets inside, Armie can't think straight. It's so tight he can barely move, so he takes it slow, gentle rolls of his hips to get Timmy used to him again. He finally bottoms out and Timmy's eyes go wide. His face lights up with the most amazing smile Armie has ever seen. He has to taste it, has to hold Timmy's hands above his head while he tells him how perfect he is, how good he feels, how good he makes _Armie_ feel. His thrusts get faster and shorter until he feels the hot rush of Timmy's release sticky on his belly. He wants to edge, but he's exhausted. Instead he lets himself enjoy it, coming hard moments later.

 

They lay together, Timmy's head pillowed on his chest.

“I missed you so much,” Armie kisses his hair, cuddles him close with an arm around his shoulders. He can feels the tears coming and he blinks them away.

Timmy lifts his head, eyebrows creased in concern. “It doesn't have to be like this.”

“Yeah, I know,” he looks away.

“Come on, Armie! You promised we were at least gonna talk about it.”

“We will, I just...It's been six months.”

“Five months and twenty six days.”

“I just wanna hold you.”

Timmy smiles down at him, kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips. His tongue fills Armie's mouth. Tomorrow can wait. Tonight, they have this.

 


	13. Prompt Twelve - Date Night Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little angsty. Sorry.

“I can see you filming me,” Armie's laughing as he walks over, meandering his way through the crowd to get to Timmy's table.

Tim tilts his phone to get all of Armie in the frame. “You started it.”

Armie scoots into the booth next to him, making the other guests hutch down. He shows Timmy the heart effect he's added to his own video.

Timmy laughs, open-mouthed and raucous, “Aww what?! Now I have to post mine,” he fiddles with his phone, proudly shows Armie the screen to prove it's out there.

They talk about the festival; interviews, premieres, Timmy's never ending string of outfits (“I get sent a lot of clothes, man. When else am I supposed to wear it all?” “You're favouring a deep v this weekend.” “Yeah. It's how I get free drinks.”). People leave and they sit closer, pressed together all the way down. Hips, thighs, legs and feet. You couldn't fit a credit card between them. Armie picks at the food left on Timmy's plate. Timmy wants Armie to touch his leg, but he doesn't.

 

Tim flops down on his bed, slightly drunk but still coherent. Armie sits at his feet, unlaces his boots and pulls them off, un-tucks his socks from his trousers. Timmy doesn't need the help, but he lets Armie help him. Lets him lift his leg into his lap and start massaging his feet. Tim winces when he digs his thumbs in a little too hard. He sits up, folding his leg underneath him, and kisses Armie softly on the lips.

Armie kisses back for a moment, but soon pulls away. “We shouldn't.”

“You let me kiss you last night,” Timmy's pouting, sulky. He can't help it.

Armie sighs. “You were shitfaced. I can't disagree with you when you're in that state. It makes you cry.”

Tim leans forward again, brushes Armie's nose with his own. “Please,” whispered against his lips. “Please please please please.” He says it the way he'd say “Elio Elio Elio.” Armie's eyes close as he surrenders, bringing their lips together once more. His shoes follow Timmy's. Their jackets end up on the floor.

 

“Do you have anything?”

Timmy doesn't want to deal with practicalities. He's already down to his dress shirt and his lips feel tingly from all the kisses and Armie's stubble. He's hard in his pants, aching. Armie's shirt is completely unbuttoned.

“Anything?”

“Lube. Condoms.”

“We've never used condoms,” he tries and fails to keep the hurt out of his voice. He knows it's ridiculous.

“Yeah, I know, but I need something...Do you think you could take it with just spit?”

Timmy snorts. “No.” He feels on the verge of tears, frustrated beyond words. He fights to get his trousers off. “I have lotion in the bathroom.”

“That works,” Armie climbs off him, stepping out of his own trousers on his way across the room.

Timmy takes his shirt off while he's waiting, shoves his hand down his boxers to cup and squeeze himself.

“You sure you wanna use this? It looks expensive.”

Armie in an unbuttoned shirt and tented out boxers, or a $30 tube of lotion? It's an easy decision. Timmy reaches for him, drags him back onto the bed, their remaining clothing quickly discarded.

Armie is so gentle. His fingers tease and circle forever before he eases them inside. Timmy is flushed all over, unable to stop the noises he's making, too needy to care if someone hears them. Armie kisses him with a lot of tongue, pushes his fingers deeper.

He enters him slowly, Timmy's legs up over his hips. He watches his face for any signs of discomfort, smiling when Timmy smiles back at him.

Timmy wraps his hand around his swollen cock, lifts it out of the mess on his stomach. More precome leaks out every time Armie grazes his prostate. He's in heaven. He strokes himself in time with Armie's rhythm.

“Yeah, do that,” Armie lifts up to watch him, “show me how you like it, baby boy. Touch your pretty cock for me.”

The nostalgia hits him like a wave, so powerful he has to squeeze his eyes shut. Crema. _Their_ weekend. Their first time together. His first time _ever._ Fucking Armie on the sofa in his tiny apartment, sore and sleepy from fucking him the night before.

The memory is painful and he needs it gone. Needs to replace it with this one. He digs his heels into Armie's ass, digs his fingers into the padding of his shoulders.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.”

Armie complies with a grunt. The headboard bangs against the wall. Timmy puts his hand up to stop it.

“Yeah, that's it. Make it hurt. I fucking love it.”

He thinks about Armie's almost confession on the balcony. _I'm not going anywhere._ His erection starts to flag.

“God! Come in me! Fill me up and use me.”

Armie stills, frowns at him. Timmy swears he can feel his dick twitching deep inside.

“Why are you talking like that? What's wrong?” Armie looks down at him, face full of concern, and he loses it. Tears stream down his cheeks, wetting the pillows, his hair.

“It's too much like before.”

Armie slips out, wipes his tears away with his thumb. “Before?”

“Before. When we were together.”

“I thought that's how you liked it. How _we_ liked to do it.”

“It was, but now...” Timmy pulls the duvet up to cover himself, his dick soft and helpless between his legs. “It's never gonna be like that again.”

Armie rolls off him, snuggles up to his side. “No, you're right. It's not. Things are different now. _We're_ different.”

He holds Timmy while he sobs, and Timmy is grateful. “Stay?” and he does, though Timmy half expects him to leave during the night.

He wakes up to warmth against his back and a strong arm around his waist. Maybe different is OK.

 


	14. Prompt Thirteen - A Perfect Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie goes shopping before he leaves Toronto.

He should've left more time. Armie grimaces at his watch, taps his thumbnail against his bottom teeth. The store is mostly empty, not surprising given the early hour. Armie would usually be in bed himself at this time on a Sunday. He stares blankly at the half mannequins in their various offerings; cotton, satin, lace. He can't decide. Green was always a winner, but then there was burgundy, royal blue, ivory, pink. He's suddenly flustered, surrounded by little white drawers he doesn't dare open. He turns to leave, when a gentle voice stops him.

“Sir?” She has a slight French lilt to her voice.

Armie stops on his way to the door, offers her a friendly smile.

“Can I help you find something?”

Armie checks his watch again, “Actually, yeah. I'm looking for a gift for someone.”

“OK. What does she like?”

“Er, well, she likes stuff that's kinda out there. A bit quirky, but classy. Beautiful, well made stuff. Expensive,” he can feel his face heating up, “and he likes delicate, pretty things, too.”

Did he say 'he?' The girl doesn't react. He didn't say 'he.' It's fine. She stands for a moment, hand on her chin, thoughtful look on her face. “Ah!” She walks over to one of the drawers, opening it with a flourish. Her nimble fingers flick through various lacy things until she holds up a pair of barely there peach shorts. Armie blushes and shakes his head. 

“Hmm...” She puts them back and opens another drawer. 

Navy blue and frilly this time. Armie tries to imagine the tiny thong _accommodating_ anything and shakes his head again, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. 

The girl studies the drawers with folded arms. Her lip curls into a smile. This time she shows him something that makes his mouth go dry. He nods, feeling warm all over. She boxes up his purchase and he pays in cash, thanks her sincerely before hurrying back to the hotel.

He knocks three times but no one answers. Tim's interviews must've already started. Armie checks down the corridor both ways before letting himself in with the spare key card. Tim had snuck it into his back pocket the night before, a move so cheesy Armie had let him get away with it. His position on the bathroom sinks had helped. He'd come on Armie's shirt, giggling muffled apologies into his shoulder. Armie had had to spill a drink on himself to hide the evidence. 

He surveys the mess that is Tim's room with a fond smile, their time together too brief once again. Spotting a Sharpie on the dressing table, he scrawls a quick message on the box and leaves it on Tim's bed. 

Tonight is the final night of his play. That's why his throat feels tight.

~

“Half an hour and then we need to be out, OK?”

Tim nods, “I just need to finish packing.”

His words are met with eye rolling and good natured tutting. He waves as he disappears into his room, glad to close the door on everything, even for a little while. He takes a deep breath, shakes himself awake. The hangover is his own doing, but he's still petulant about it, annoyed that he missed Armie, irrational, tired. 

A plain white box sits on his bed. He picks it up and turns it over in his hands. Timmy smiles. He'd know that loopy cursive anywhere. Beautiful and a little flamboyant, just like Armie himself. 

_ To match your bracelets. _

The box is a bit big for jewellery. Timmy opens it without finesse, eager and happy. He grins as he peels back the tissue paper. 

~

Curtain call leaves Armie both elated and maudlin. He signs peaches on autopilot, smiling along, but hearing nothing. He lingers in his dressing room, not ready to leave even though everyone is waiting outside. His phone vibrates in his pocket.

As soon as he sees who the message is from, his hands start to shake. It's a picture. His finger hovers for a moment before he opens it.

Tim looks breathtaking. The black, aztec print lace rides low on his hips, disappearing into the crease of his thigh. They're snug in the front, but that was to be expected, the intricate silver beading a devastating final touch. Armie zooms, unable to stop himself. Tim is plump and aroused, not fully hard yet but well on his way. Armie's mouth waters. He wants to see the lace straining.  

He scrolls through the apps on his phone and opens Facetime. Real life can wait another ten minutes. 


	15. Prompt Fourteen - Any Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver has a device that allows him to see into alternate realities. Elio just wants to finish his book.

“Put that thing away,” Elio frowned over the top of his hardback.

Oliver stood by the big bay window, smiling at the device in his hand. He pouted a little at Elio's words, “But I like to see how I'm doing.”

“You know he's not actually you, right?”

“Yeah yeah,” Oliver waved his hand dismissively. “Hey, the you in this universe is really hot right now. Like, super hot. Scary hot.”

“Gee, thanks,” Elio rolled his eyes and held the book in front of his face. 

“No, I mean,” Oliver's voice softened, “he looks like you again.”

Elio couldn't help the small smile that quirked up his mouth. “Oli, it's been thirty years.  _ I  _ don't look like me.”

“You'll always look the same to me, Ellie Belly. Scoot.”

Elio half sat so that Oliver could settle behind him on the sofa. He leant against his warm chest, smiled at the absent minded tug on his thinning curls. They were quiet for awhile. Elio went back to his book.

Several minutes later, the sound of fingertips on glass announced that Oliver was looking again.

“Oooh I'm in Australia now.”

Elio craned his neck to look. “Wow. Nice ass.”

“Heeey!” Oliver poked him in the ribs.

Elio laughed as he dodged away, “You should really stop looking at that thing. It's gonna make you mad.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver put it down reluctantly. “Why do you never look? Aren't you curious?”

It was obvious Elio wasn't going to finish his book today. He placed a faded leather bookmark between the pages and closed the cover with a sigh. “I can't believe there's a reality where we're not together.”

Oliver kissed his temple, pulled him closer. “Not this one, though.”

“No. Not this one.”

  
  



	16. Prompt Fifteen - Duffel Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's cold.

“Your heat went out again?”

Timmy nods, the movement almost lost in the many layers surrounding him. “You picked a great night for it. Super doesn't work weekends,” he rubs his hands together and blows between them. “I can make you some cocoa.” 

“Thanks,” Armie follows him into the freezing apartment, smiling at Timmy's bundled up form as it waddles towards the kitchen. 

“How's Urdle?”

“I gave him my hot water bottle, but I still think he hates me.”

“Nah, he'll come around. No one can stay mad at you.” 

Timmy blushes and it's beautiful.

“How many hoodies are you wearing, Tim?” He isn't mocking, he just can't keep the laugh out of his voice. The boy was cold in  _ Italy _ . In  _ June _ .

Tim reaches up to the top shelf for the cocoa powder, exposing a creamy white strip of stomach. “Seven.”

“And how many socks?”

“Five pairs.”

“Fuck. That's a lot for me to take off.”

Timmy nods, “I am an impenetrable fortress.”

“What a waste of air miles.”

“Sorry.”

Minutes pass in silence. Timmy stirs milk into Armie's mug. Armie takes a sip and smiles. Timmy bounces on the balls of his feet, restless, deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

“Come here,” he says it softly, gently beckoning Timmy over to him.

Timmy stands between his legs, eyes big and vulnerable, hands twisting in his pockets.

“Does she hate me?” 

Armie takes another sip and rests the steaming mug on the counter. “No.”

“Does she hate you?”

Armie shrugs. “I don't think so.”

Timmy chews on his bottom lip. “I don't know what to do now,” he admits, arms dropping to his sides.

Armie stretches up to bring their mouths together. He nuzzles Timmy's cold little nose, strokes the curls at the nape of his neck. Timmy sighs against Armie's lips, shivers when his hand finds bare skin, breathes him in as he rubs his back in soothing circles.

“What did you bring?” He asks after awhile, eyeing up Armie's duffel bag by the door.

“All five shirts. And that stripey jumper you like.”

 


	17. Prompt Sixteen - Everything's Bigger in Texas

Everything’s bigger in Texas.

“Shit, stop. Stop!”

Armie stills immediately at Timmy’s words, his brow furrowed in concern. Taking deep breaths to centre himself, Timmy runs his hands over Armie’s chest. He’s warm and fuzzy beneath his chilly fingers. It’s OK. He’s OK. He shifts, trying to get comfortable, but the movement just brings a wince of pain. His vision blurs with tears. All that time Armie spent licking him open, sucking his cock.

A small sob. “I’m ruining it.”

“Shhh, baby boy. You’re not ruining anything,” Armie’s hands are huge on his slim thighs, kneading his flesh, offering comfort. “It’s just been awhile.”

“It really fucking hurts,” Timmy’s hand rests on his stomach. Armie looks up at him as he covers it with his own.

“We can stop, if you want to?”

Timmy shakes his head vigorously. “No. It has to be tonight.”

“We’ve got tomorrow.”

“No.”

“OK,” Armie’s voice is soft, understanding, “OK.”

Timmy sucks three fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva before reaching behind. He rubs around his stretched out rim, the base of Armie’s cock. It makes the slide a little easier, but not by much. Timmy growls in frustration. His erection flags and he wants to scream with the unfairness of it all. Armie strokes his back.

“Get up for a sec, I have an idea.”

Timmy reluctantly lifts up until Armie’s cock pops out of him. The relief is tangible and he hates himself for it. Armie settles him against his bent legs and tugs on his dick, gentle, teasing. 

“Do you remember the last time you were in Texas?” His cock brushes the small of Timmy’s back.

Timmy smiles, closes his eyes at the memory. “The whirlpool tub.”

“Mmmhmm,” Armie’s thumb swipes over his slit, “that was an amazing night.”

Timmy sighs. The smell of baby powder floats somewhere in his sense memory and his cock thickens in Armie’s hand. He remembers the bubbles. Remembers Armie sitting on the side, legs spread, balls resting in the water while Timmy took him to the back of his throat.

Armie picks up the pace, his grip tighter under the head where Timmy likes it. 

“Do you remember Luca’s sofa?” Timmy rocks his hips, grasps Armie’s bicep to keep himself upright.

“I do.”

“Do you think he misses that yellow cushion?”

Armie laughs, strong fingers tickling Tim’s  perineum , “I think he knows it went to a good home.”

Timmy bites his lip, pinches his own nipple into a stiff little peak.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the hand on his cock speeds up.

“Nuh uh.”

“You are. So beautiful. Perfect.”

Timmy shuts him up with a kiss, lots of tongue, precome smearing Armie’s belly. 

“Come on,” Armie’s stubble grazes his cheek, his voice hot in his ear, “let go for me.”

Timmy whimpers.

“Come all over me. Let me have it.”

Timmy cries out as his release hits Armie’s stomach in thick spurts, puddling below his navel. Armie milks him through it, tells him how good he is, how gorgeous he is when he makes a mess like this. He slides his fingers through Timmy’s come and smears it onto his entrance, pushes it inside him. He uses the rest to slick up his own cock and then helps Timmy back into position.

He’s so slick now, the adrenaline from his orgasm dulling the pain until he’s bouncing in Armie’s lap, hard and leaking. Armie holds his hips, keeping him still so that he can find his own rhythm. He fucks up into him in short, sharp jabs, legs spread wide, heels digging into the mattress. Yes, yes, yes. More, more, more. 

Timmy whines, scared to find himself close again so soon. He grabs his cock with the intention of delaying things, but he’s too sensitive and the slightest touch sets him off. It’s a sluggish pulse after his earlier climax, but he feels it everywhere; his toes, his chest, his pelvis. 

Armie’s neck strains and his head falls back. Timmy feels him come deep inside, feels it drip out of him and back down Armie’s shaft as he pulls out. He crawls off and flops on his front. Sticky. Wrecked.

Armie stumbles to the bathroom, brings back a cold, wet towel. It feels good against Timmy’s arse, cleaning him and soothing his aching muscles. He sinks further into the bed, murmuring his thanks, claiming Armie as soon as he’s back under the covers with an arm and a leg thrown over his broad torso. 

A bite to his shoulder. “Mine.”

“We’ll get up early tomorrow,” Armie plays with his hair, “take a bath and go get breakfast together.”

“And buy lube.”

Armie chuckles, low and loving, “Yes. Definitely.”


	18. Prompt Seventeen - Just a Trim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic, fluffy drabble :)

“He needs a haircut,” Timmy sighed as he sat down on the floor next to them, cheeks tinged pink by the New York winter. He brushed his son’s curls to one side so that he could kiss his forehead.

Armie frowned as he placed a bright yellow brick on the tower he was helping to build. “Nah, he’s fine.”

“Armie, it’s getting in his eyes. It’s annoying, believe me.”

Armie swallowed, irrationally reluctant. He placed another brick on the tower, delighted when the baby giggled and clapped. 

Timmy wrapped an arm around his chubby little tummy, gently rocking him from side to side. “We’ll take him this weekend.”

“Fine,” Armie pouted, “but just a trim.”

 

Armie hovered around the hairdresser, thumbnail in his mouth, chewing nervously. 

“Not too much off the length,” he said, for the fifth time.

She winked at him over her shoulder, “I know. I’m careful.”

His son sat in the chair with his stuffed T Rex, wide green eyes watching Armie in the mirror.

“You know,” the hairdresser moved on to the other side, “most dads want their little boys to have short hair.”

Armie crossed his arms, “I like it like this.”

The chime over the door tinkled as Timmy entered, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. Shopping bags dangled off his arms. 

“How’s the little man?” He kissed Armie on the cheek.

Armie brushed the snow out of his hair, fingers tangling as Timmy’s damp curls bounced around his face. 

The hairdresser smiled as she watched them. “Yeah, OK. I get it.”

 


	19. Prompt Eighteen - Borrowing Clothes

_ Crema _

Armie shifts closer to the monitor, crouching down to fit under the low roof of their makeshift tent, erected quickly to protect the cameras just as the downpour started. He smiles as he watches the rough cut, his hand splayed warmly over Luca’s shoulder. 

Timmy’s feet splash on the sodden grass as he runs across the lawn. He shakes his wet curls as he enters the tent, droplets flying everywhere as he squeezes in next to Armie. 

“Hey,” he nods to the cameramen. They nod back.

Armie quirks an eyebrow, “Is that my hoodie?”

Timmy smiles sheepishly, “Sorry, man. I was freezing. I can take it off if you want?”

“No, it’s…” Armie looks at him, visibly shivering, hair darkened by the rain, wrapped up in thick grey cotton. He puts his arm around Timmy and pulls him into his side, wraps the large garment more snugly around his small frame. “It looks good on you.”

 

_ Los Angeles _

“I’m gonna kill him! I am gonna kill that smug piece of shit,” Armie paces, livid, as Timmy sits in a heap on the bed. 

The long sleeved t shirt he borrowed is far too big for him, especially now. “Armie,” he hugs his knees up to his chest, “please calm down.”

Armie isn’t listening, “Fucking doctors? To a movie set? All because he wants you to sit in the rain until it looks ‘just right?’ Fucker.”

“Armie!”

Armie finally stops, turns to look at him.

“Can I have a hug? Please? I’m freezing.”

They climb under the covers. Armie settles Timmy against him, head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him protectively. He kisses the top of his head, “You’re not going in tomorrow.”

 

_ New York _

“Nice,” Armie snaps the waistband on Timmy’s (his) underwear as he passes him in the kitchen.

Timmy hutches them back up his slim hips, sighing when they immediately fall down again. “I can’t believe they lost my luggage. All my favourite stuff was in there,” he pouts as he spreads the butter.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Timmy sits down on the sofa and bites his toast, hands Armie the other slice without being asked, “I wish we could go back. I loved it there.”

Armie hums in agreement. Timmy sighs dramatically, gazing through condensation at the New York City skyline, “Work in an hour. I guess the honeymoon’s over,” he smiles at Armie over his shoulder, “Literally.”

 


	20. Prompt Nineteen - Sweetest of all Muffins

Armie watches the sunrise over Timmy’s shoulder. They’re cuddled up in bed, Timmy’s bed, warm and soft while Manhattan stirs around them. He has the duvet pushed down to his hips, overheated in the damp summer air. Timmy suffers no such affliction, cocooning himself even when it’s sweltering. Only his nose and eyes are visible, topped with a mess of fluffy curls. 

He hates the haircut, wouldn’t take his cap off until they were safely behind closed doors. 

“I like it,” Armie had said.

He had been met with a grumble, an awkward shrug, until he kissed Timmy on the soft patch of skin behind his ear.

He’s angelic like this, but Armie has missed him so much. “Wake up, little muffin,” he kisses his cheek, his voice low and quiet.

Timmy frowns, snuggles in further, “‘Mnot a muffin.”

Armie kisses him again, “My muffin. Sweetest of all the muffins.”

“Too early,” Timmy whines. 

He’s  _ cranky _ ! This is excellent. Armie makes his way carefully down the bed, making sure not to jostle Timmy and agitate him further. He’s soft in his boxers. Armie  _ nuzzles _ .

“Mmmmm,” a roll of hips. 

Armie kisses him there, his breath hot, teasing. He cups him gently, smiling when he feels him getting plump and heavy in his hand.

“Arrrmiieee,” he spreads his legs, barely awake, his response instinctual. 

Armie lowers his underwear, takes the head in his mouth. 

“Armie,” Timmy sighs. His hand finds the back of Armie’s neck, fingers carding through the hair at his nape, encouraging. 

Armie moans at the taste, the ache in his jaw, the stretch of his lips. He closes his eyes, takes his time, makes it  _ good _ . 

Timmy comes with a groan, watches Armie swallow with a sleepy grin.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”


	21. Prompt Twenty - Golden Globes

Armie takes a pull on his cigar, watches as the smoke curls from his lips, hazy blue in the darkness. His deck chair sinks further as he leans back, burying his feet in the warm sand. Maybe dragging it all the way to the beach was overkill. Liz hates him smoking near the house. It’s low tide, and the waves lap gently against the shore. He stares out across the ocean, his eyes following the blinking green light of a yacht far away. 

He’s tracked Timmy’s movements all night, via Instagram and Twitter. Baby boy is having a grand old time, cuddling up to pretty boys and dancing with his mamma. He said he’d call, but Armie doesn’t expect it. It’s Timmy, after all. 

The beach is deserted. He’s been hard since the red carpet coverage. He slips his shorts off, takes another drag on the cigar, leaves it to dangle between his fingertips. Last year it was Timmy’s hand on him, fast and rough, squeezed together in a tiny bathroom stall, cock peeking out from under his shirt, Armie’s fingers in his ass. He wonders what he’s been getting up to recently, with that cock of his, and smirks at the Elioism. 

“None of your business,” Timmy would smile, and Armie would let him think he was in control, because that was sexier. 

The green light vanishes beyond the horizon. His phone vibrates.

  
  
  
  



	22. Prompt Twenty One - First Kiss

He has to do it tonight or he won’t do it ever. Feelings long nurtured by the Italian sunshine now simmer below the surface, threatening to boil over when Armie gives him just a little extra, a flirty smile or a dirty joke. 

He smiles wide, open mouthed with adoration as they pose together. Armie holds him close, his fingers warm and strong under his ribs. He’s missed this. Missed the taps and touches, the pats and pushes. He’s had to keep his hands to himself for far too long. Tonight, he indulges. 

They barely leave each others’ side, even going to the bar together, or to find food. Armie seems to want him around, leaning into him when they’re surrounded by people, bending down to whisper his scathing commentary. He giggles and squirms until Armie slings an arm around his shoulders, shushing him. He leaves it there for a long time, and Timmy wonders. 

They’re used to pushing boundaries, and Timmy’s used to pushing his luck. Even high school seniors will let you get away with a kiss if you give them a cheeky smile afterwards. 

“He’s my lover.”

Her smile flits between them. She’s laughing, but she’s not sure if she  _ should _ be.

Timmy points at Armie, head tilted like a puppy. “My Oliver.”

Armie cracks up, nudges Timmy with his shoulder. He’s visibly blushing, and Timmy  _ wants.  _ Wants so badly it’s almost visceral. 

He waits all of a minute before following Armie to the bathroom. He wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers as he gets nearer, a nervous bounce of adrenaline and Red Bull. 

The room is blissfully empty. Armie smiles at him in the mirror as he washes his hands. 

“I don’t know what’s got into you tonight, but”

Timmy plants one on him, standing on his tiptoes, tugging Armie’s lapels until their mouths are on the same level. Armie’s startled and his mouth is closed. It ends up being more of an awkward smoosh than the life affirming tongue battle Tim was expecting. He steps back, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Erm…”

Armie kisses him again, arms completely circling his waist, sliding up under his jacket. It’s better this time. Timmy backs him up against the sink. Their lips barely part as they share a breath

“This is really stupid.”

Kiss.

“Yep.”

Kiss.

“Totally and utterly.”

Kiss. 

Armie smiles down at him. Timmy readjusts his bowtie. 

  
  



	23. Prompt Twenty Two - Beautiful Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning on this one for eating disorders/food issues. It's nothing major but I wanted to mention it xx

Armie’s jaw clenched as he scraped a large portion of stir fry into the kitchen swing bin.  _ Harper  _ would’ve eaten more than that. He glanced over at Timmy, curled up on the couch with his legs under him, waiting to start the movie. He’d been quiet and subdued all week, picking at meals, ignoring his phone, not doing the voices when he read to Ford. Filming for this one was really taking its toll on him, and Armie didn’t like it. 

He put the plate in the dishwasher and settled himself next to Timmy. Liz had gone to see friends for the weekend, leaving them alone with various baked goods and a whispered ‘make sure he eats something.’ 

The credits had just started when Armie announced, “Snacks,” and headed back to the kitchen. He cut up some fresh fruit; strawberries, banana, blueberries, and then sliced off a good thousand calorie chunk of brownie from one of the trays Liz had made. He cut it into little cubes to make it less daunting, mixing it in with the fruit. He placed the bowl on the coffee table in front of them, taking a bit for himself so Timmy would feel more relaxed. 

About twenty minutes in, he noticed Timmy reaching for the bowl and smiled. By the end of the movie, everything was gone.

Timmy sighed as he turned off the TV. Armie lifted his arm, inviting him in for a hug, if he wanted one. Timmy snuggled against his side, his hand resting on Armie’s chest.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Timmy just hummed in response.

“I’m always here to take care of you. You know that.”

Timmy sat up, eyes flicking to Armie’s lips before he leaned in and kissed him. It was barely anything. Too chaste. Too careful. Armie pulled him in closer, tucked a stray curl behind his ear. The next kiss was more passionate, Timmy smiling as he brushed Armie’s tongue with his own. 

Armie’s hand trailed down his spine, over his hip bone. He popped open the button on Timmy’s jeans, slipped his fingers through the slit in his underwear. He felt the tears on his cheeks before Timmy pulled away, curling in on himself on the other end of the sofa.

“Tim?”

“I’m sorry. You said we couldn’t do this anymore and now you...I just...I’m sorry.”

“Sssh, hey, come here. It’s OK,” Armie squeezed his knee, “it’s OK.”

Timmy’s face crumpled, “I hate it.”

Armie nodded. He scooted closer and gathered Timmy into his lap, holding him through the sobs, gently stroking the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you,” he kissed his temple, “I want to make you happy.”

Timmy sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. Armie kissed him again and he wriggled away, “Mucus.”

“Don’t care,” Armie kissed the end of his nose.

Their eyes met. Timmy rocked his hips, bottom lip caught between his teeth, “Is this really OK?”

A pause. A kiss.

“Can we go upstairs?”

 

They undressed each other slowly, savouring every soft patch of skin that had gone too long without attention, their quiet sighs melting into the darkness with a push of hips, the soft press of kiss-swollen lips, a rasp of stubble against Timmy’s neck.

They slept in late, a tangle of blankets and each other. Timmy ate a whole stack of pancakes for breakfast. 

 


	24. Prompt Twenty Three - Leather

Nervous laughter. He hadn’t expected that. He had thought, seeing Timmy for the first time in weeks, that he would greet him with fond affection. Maybe a little smile of joy, a brotherly shoulder pat, or a hug that lingered. But then of course, he hadn’t expected Timmy to turn up wearing  _ that _ . 

Open collar on his oversized shirt, showing off the white curve of his throat, the sleeves too long in contrast to the snug fitting black jacket. Bracelets and rings and boots. Leather trousers. Like a baby faced Byron waving excitedly over the top of a pink drink with an umbrella in it.

Fuck.

Armie’s cheeks matched the drink as he made his way across the crowded bar, grateful that Timmy had saved him a stool because standing was getting harder by the minute. He was greeted with a soft headbutt and a grin. Timmy talked too loudly and too fast. They touched each other for no reason. Timmy sucked his drink through a straw and Armie watched, so aroused it set his teeth on edge. He put his hand on Timmy’s knee. Plans were made without speaking. 

 

Patience was not in Armie’s vocabulary tonight. He gave Timmy’s hole only a cursory swipe of his slick thumb before he was holding him open, nudging the thick head of his cock into tight heat. 

Timmy hissed and scrabbled at the wall, “You’ll fucking kill me if you do that,” he flexed his hips, muscles working against the intrusion, smirking at Armie through a mess of curls and lashes.

Armie braced one hand on the wall above him, the other around his waist, gently guiding him backwards. “Take it,” he murmured into Timmy’s ear, his stubble grazing his soft, flushed cheek. He held him up against his chest, his hand circling his belly. Slow. Comforting. 

Timmy moaned, low and dirty and visceral. He tilted his head back, mouthed at Armie’s neck, “Take my cock out,” a scrape of teeth, a soothing tongue, “play with me, Armie,” he covered the back of Armie’s hand with his palm, moved it slowly down his front until they were cupping him together, trapped and throbbing. “I’ve been dreaming about this.”

They shared a messy kiss. Armie buried himself fully. He shoved Timmy’s trousers further down his thighs, freeing him with an audible slap of flesh. 

“Aw fuck,” Timmy leaned forwards, “That’s it. Now touch me.”

“No.”

Timmy snarled, dug his fingernails into Armie’s thigh hard enough to draw blood. Armie smacked his arse. “Be good,” he fucked into him, “or I’ll stop.”

Timmy eased his grip. Armie nuzzled his neck. They fucked slowly, precome drooling from Timmy’s slit, streaking sticky lines across the floor as his cock bobbed with every drag.

When he was virtually sobbing with need, Armie took pity. 

It was his turn to cover the dry cleaning bill.


	25. Prompt Twenty Four - Nice View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Timmy's video of Armie in the bathroom. Literally nobody asked for this but I have no shame.  
> There's a bit of pee here. Feel free to skip if that's not your thing.

“Are you gonna pull back so they can see the wall?”

Timmy snort laughs and nearly drops his phone into the urinal, struggling to keep the focus on Armie’s face while he grins and mugs for the camera. The guy behind them dries his hands and leaves quickly, shooting them a dirty look as he opens the door. 

Armie shrugs and carries on peeing. Timmy giggles, zips up, leans round the divide to get closer.

“Whoa now,” Armie chuckles, then, softer, “enjoying the view?”

There’s something different here. The spark of a challenge in his quirky little smirk. He holds Timmy’s gaze as he squeezes himself, subtle enough to look like he’s shaking off, obvious enough to draw Timmy’s attention. Timmy wets his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes travel lower, lower, until he’s openly staring at Armie’s cock. His mouth waters. He’s never had a good look, not  _ really _ , averting his eyes even during their love scenes. Armie is beautiful. Everywhere. He  _ wants  _ him so badly he can feel a whimper wrangle its way from his constricted throat. 

“Armie,” his face is on fire, palms sweating. 

Armie still hasn’t put himself away. Instead he turns slightly, giving Timmy a better view. Timmy’s phone slips from his hand and he swears, making sure it’s not cracked before he shoves it into his jacket pocket.

Armie steps closer, still very much on show, slides two fingers under Timmy’s chin to tilt it upwards, “Just say it.”

Timmy crushes their mouths together, feet sliding on the slippery tiles as he reaches up on tiptoes, pulling Armie as close as possible. He’s panting by the time they break apart, shaking. Armie drags him into a stall and locks the door, smiling before Timmy pounces on him again. 

Timmy’s kisses are desperate, full of tongue. He wraps his hand around Armie’s dick and starts to stroke, sighing as he feels Armie thicken out and strain in his grasp. Armie’s lips leave his mouth to work on his neck, kissing, biting, sucking. 

“Tighter,” he rolls his hips, joining Timmy’s rhythm. 

Timmy tightens his fist around the tip. Armie’s slit dribbles piss and precome, easing the slide as Timmy works him faster. 

“Mmmm fuck,” Armie closes his eyes, rests his head against the wall.

“You like this?” Timmy gives his jaw a playful nip, swirls his hand a little.

Armie’s eyes are glassy when he opens them. He kisses Timmy again, breathing ragged as he gets closer to the edge.

“Give it to me,” Timmy murmurs against his lips, jerking him faster and faster, “Give it to me, Armie.”

Armie grunts, come soaking Timmy’s fist and the hem of his jumper. He moans as he rides it out, dick throbbing, hips twitching. Timmy watches everything, so turned on he’s gonna scream. 

Armie almost rips his jeans trying to shove them down his thighs. He tugs his boxers down roughly and pulls Timmy into another kiss with an arm around his back. Timmy whines in relief when Armie finally touches him, one hand on his cock, the other kneading the soft flesh of his ass. 

Armie’s teeth graze his earlobe, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight.”

Timmy nods, thrusts into Armie’s tight grip.

“Mine,” Armie growls, digging his fingers in sharp enough to leave bruises, “maybe I should stop right now, hmm? Leave you all wet and messy. Tell our nice director that you like to watch me piss.”

“You fucking dare,” Timmy snarls, biting Armie’s shoulder and covering his hand with his own to keep him in place.

Armie laughs, quiet and dirty. “Come on, baby boy. Come for me.”

Timmy clings to him as he comes hard, burying his face in Armie’s jumper, breathing him in with every pant.

He deletes the video.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [lion-from-the-north on tumblr](http://lion-from-the-north.tumblr.com/)


End file.
